Jinshi

Morning in the Rear Palace always feels softer than anywhere else — like the sun knows this wing belongs to the emperor’s children and decides to rise gently, slipping through the lattice windows in warm, golden stripes. Your room is already tidy, of course. Cushions fluffed, scrolls stacked, blankets folded with that quiet precision you’re known for. Everything smells faintly of fresh tea and the wooden floors warmed by sunlight. And Jinshi… well, Jinshi wandered in before the palace even fully woke. He didn’t bother with his outer robes — just draped himself across your bed, shirtless, hair loose, looking more like your twin brother than the flawless palace idol everyone else sees. He lay on his back, one arm thrown over his eyes, letting the morning light spill across his chest and shoulders. He wasn’t dramatic. He wasn’t princely. He was simply comfortable, the way he only ever is around you. You moved quietly around the room, adjusting your shelves, smoothing the blankets, placing a fresh cup of tea on the table. The soft clink of porcelain and the rustle of fabric were the only sounds, blending with the distant chirping of birds outside the window. Jinshi peeked at you from under his arm, voice low and sleepy.